


not that kind of service (except when it is)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Maid Service, Multi, PWP, Sex Work, Shameless Smut, kind of, kinkmeme fill, so really that should tell you everything you need to know about it, so very much a pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Iwai has a big shipment coming in, and he hasn’t blown off any steam in a while. Hiring a quote-unquote “maid service” should take care of both of those problems.





	not that kind of service (except when it is)

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Persona 5 Kinkmeme on dreamwidth that requested Akira and Goro working for a maid service and being hired by Iwai. Takes place in a vague AU where Akira and Iwai don’t know each other and Akira and Goro are old enough to do this.

The buzzer rings at the front of the shop, and Iwai carefully stacks the last box of pellets on the shelf before turning toward the door, grumbling as he kicks packing material out of the way. Drifts of it cover the floor; the last shipment had been sizeable, which is why he had hired help.

Or  _ tried _ to.

“You’re late,” he snaps as he opens the door. “I’m almost finish-”

The words die in his throat along with a good portion of his irritation as two pairs of wide eyes blink up at him from beneath thick lashes. The boy on the left bows, brown hair falling into his eyes, and he brushes it aside with one gloved hand as he straightens.

“Our apologies, Master,” he says, smiling. The boy next to him inclines his head, but the small smile on his face is more of a smirk than anything else.

“Traffic was...difficult,” the first boy continues, but that’s not the most important issue here.

“There are  _ two _ of you,” he says, and feels stupid for saying it as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

“Two for one,” the first boy says, perfectly composed. “A special service for new customers.”

Iwai hesitates, but this  _ was _ supposed to be a gift to himself, and he’s vaguely sure there’s some English saying about gift horses and mouths…

Both of these boys have very pretty mouths. Iwai thinks the darker-haired one might be wearing lip gloss.

He shakes himself. “As long as I’m not being charged extra,” he says, standing aside.

“Of course not,” the first boy says sunnily, sailing past him and into the shop. The second boy follows him silently, hands folded primly in the fullness of his skirt.

They should look ridiculous. Iwai had been half sure that it  _ would _ look ridiculous, having someone from a maid service - especially  _ this _ kind of service - in his shop, but these two...don’t look ridiculous. Even with the skirts, the stockings, the ruffles, the - the  _ everything _ , they carry themselves with the kind of confidence that says they know  _ exactly _ how good they look.

“You can call me Goro, Master,” the first boy says, interrupting his thoughts. “And this is Akira,” he says, nodding to his companion, who seems content to let Goro speak for him.

Iwai grunts. “You talk at all?” he says to Akira.

Akira’s grin widens fractionally. “Yes.”

Iwai huffs. “Brat.” Akira inclines his head subserviently, but Iwai can see the glint in his eyes.

Goro claps his hands, looking around. “Where shall we start?”

Right. “I already unpacked the shipment, so that part’s done,” Iwai says. “Why don’t you -” he gestures around. “Clean up the mess. You’re a maid service, right?”

Akira and Goro share the briefest of glances, and between the angle of Akira’s smile and the glint in Goro’s eyes, Iwai feels something tighten in his gut.

“Of course, Master,” Goro says smoothly. “We aim to please.”

Iwai settles in his chair behind the counter, propping his boots up on the counter as the boys get to work. Akira gathers up the loose packing paper and starts breaking down boxes; Goro finds Iwai’s neglected broom and dustpan and gets to work sweeping up escaped styrofoam peanuts. Iwai absently pulls open his candy drawer, pulling out a lollipop, but he doesn’t unwrap it yet.

“Two for one, you said?” Iwai leans back in the chair, spinning the lollipop through his fingers. “Special service?”

“That’s right, Master,” Goro replies, sweeping the last of the packing peanuts into a neat little pile. He bends over -  _ way _ over - to scoop them into the dustpan, and Iwai shifts behind the counter as the movement exposes the clasps in the top of his stockings. Garter belt, then; Iwai’s gaze moves to Akira, to the long line of his legs as he reaches up on his toes to dust a top shelf. Iwai wonders if Akira’s wearing a matching belt; if he ran a hand up the back of that thigh, under the skirt, would he find silky fabric or bare skin? 

Akira catches him staring and grins over his shoulder. He lowers himself slowly back on his heels, turning to fold his arms behind his back.

“Is there something I can do for you?” It’s the most he’s spoken since he got here.

“ _ Akira _ ,” Goro snaps, and Iwai’s eyes jump to the other boy. He’s putting the dustpan and broom away, and when he turns back around his face is set with disapproval. “You will refer to our Master with the respect he deserves.”

Akira’s smirk widens, and he locks eyes with Iwai. “Is there something,” he repeats, slowly and with emphasis, “I can do for you,  _ sir. _ ”

It’s the least respectful  _ sir _ Iwai’s ever heard in his life, and he’s heard a lot of disrespect. His boots hit the floor with a  _ thump _ and he stands, circling the counter slowly. Akira stays where he is, looking up at Iwai through his lashes.

Iwai fists a hand in Akira’s hair and pulls his head back, exposing the line of his neck. Akira’s mouth falls open on a gasp, and now that he’s this close Iwai can see he’s  _ definitely _ wearing gloss, lips shiny and wet and oh so pink.

“Quite the mouth on you,” Iwai murmurs, and Akira grins even against the strain on his neck.

“Maybe you can shut him up,” Iwai says, turning and shoving Akira toward Goro.

“Gladly,” Goro murmurs, catching Akira as he stumbles. He slides his hands up Akira’s cheeks and holds him still while he seals their mouths together.

Akira hums into it, hand sliding around Goro’s waist, and they - they make a  _ very _ pretty picture, Goro tilting his head to get the angle he wants and Akira pulling him close so they’re pressed together from hip to chest. It’s the kind of sight that gives a man  _ ideas _ , and Iwai has several already in mind.

Goro breaks the kiss and looks over Akira’s shoulder at Iwai. “Satisfied?” he says, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Not hardly.” Iwai leans against a shelving unit. “You were late; I deserve somethin’ for that. So go on,” he gestures. “Let’s have a show.”

Akira and Goro share another split-second glance, and then Akira’s leaning in again as Goro’s arms slide around his shoulders. Akira turns them in place so Goro’s back is to Iwai, then sinks to his knees, pulling Goro down with him, and Iwai gives up on pretense and palms himself through his pants. His dick twitches under his fingers as Goro settles over Akira’s lap, fabric pooling around them. Akira runs his hands up Goro’s thighs, under the skirt, and Iwai makes a noise in spite of himself.

Akira looks up, eyes dark and knowing. “See something you like?  _ Sir. _ ” The insolence is calculated, and it sets Iwai’s blood roiling the way it’s supposed to.

“Show me,” he says, and Akira shifts, tugging Goro up until he’s balanced on his knees. Akira runs his hands up the back of Goro’s thighs, pulling up layers of skirt and petticoat, and Iwai’s breath leaves him in a rush as the garters he’d glimpsed earlier come into view.

Akira’s hands pulls Goro’s skirt up and over his back, revealing blue silk panties stretched over his ass, and Goro shivers, the skin of his thighs pebbling as it’s exposed to the cool air of the shop. Iwai takes one step forward, then another, then he’s dropping to his knees - and he’ll be paying for that later, but right now he reaches out and snaps the garter against the back of Goro’s thigh, savoring the way he jumps and the yelp buried in Akira’s neck.

“He’s ready for you,” Akira says, one hand holding up Goro’s skirt and the other pulling the silk underwear down below the curve of Goro’s ass. Goro shifts, one arm unwinding from Akira’s neck and reaching behind himself for Iwai’s hand. He takes in and guides it into a skirt pocket, closing it around the contents, and when Iwai withdraws it’s with a handful of condoms and travel-sized packets of lube.

“Prepared,” he chuckles, undoing his pants.

“For anything,” Goro agrees as Iwai rolls a condom on; his cock is already stiff, and he takes a moment to appreciate the picture in front of him: Goro peering over his shoulder, skirt hiked up around his waist and underwear pulled down, and Akira holding him in place, arms wrapped tight around Goro’s waist and eyes dark and intent on Iwai.

“Can’t say I’m complainin’.” Iwai pours lube over his fingers and moves closer. The first finger slips in easily so Iwai adds a second, Goro’s breath hitching as he does. Akira hadn’t been kidding, when he said Goro was ready; he’s clearly been stretched in advance, which begs the question -

“Did you help?” Iwai can picture it clearly: Goro’s legs spread, Akira’s long fingers working him open.

Akira’s eyes glitter. “Why do you think we were late?”

Iwai swears, and Goro makes a muffled noise as Iwai pulls his fingers out and positions his cock.

“Hold that thought,” Iwai says, and then he’s pushing in.

Iwai groans as he sinks into that tight, slick heat, and Goro buries a moan in Akira’s neck. Iwai adjusts his grip on Goro’s hips, working him back onto Iwai’s cock with gentle thrusts until his ass is flush with Iwai’s hips. Goro trembles under his hands, and Iwai strokes his thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

“Give him a hand,” he says to Akira as his hips start a gentle, rocking rhythm. “I want to see him come all over the inside of that pretty skirt.”

Goro makes a disgruntled noise but it turns to a gasp as Akira reaches underneath the skirt pooled between them. His hips jerk, presumably as Akira gets a hand on him, and Iwai grins, breath already coming faster.

“That’s it. Tell him how good he’s being.” Akira grins and pulls Goro closer with one arm, voice dropping as he murmurs a steady stream of filth into Goro’s ear, telling him how good he is at taking cock, how they’re going to make him come all over himself, how he’s not going to be able to walk when Iwai’s done with him. Iwai keeps up a gentle, steady pace, forcing himself to go slow and think about baseball - he doesn’t want this to be over too quickly - and it’s not long before Goro is shaking silently in Akira’s arms and clenching down around Iwai’s dick. Iwai holds his hips steady and carefully pulls out, pulling off the condom and tossing it aside.

Goro peers over his shoulder, still pressed close to Akira. “Did you…?”

“Not yet,” Iwai says, tearing another condom open and rolling it on. “Turn over.”

Goro frowns, but Akira laughs, and he seems to get what Iwai wants because he rolls Goro over on his back and settles over him, braced on his hands and knees. He shoots a look back over his shoulder, promising and provocative all at once.

Iwai settles between their legs, Goro shifting wider and drawing his knees up to make room. Iwai runs his hands up the back of Akira’s thighs, tracing the lines of the garter straps up under the skirt.

“You -“ Iwai laughs as he pushes the skirt up over Akira’s back. Akira is indeed wearing a belt to match Goro’s, down to the little bows on the clasps, but it’s what he’s  _ not _ wearing that’s making Iwai’s dick twitch between his legs.

“You came all the way here like this,” Iwai says, cupping Akira’s ass with his hand. His skin is warm and soft underneath Iwai’s fingers, and with no underwear in the way Iwai can slide his thumb right between Akira’s cheeks and press gently, testing.

Akira hums and presses back into it. “It’s -  _ hn _ \- faster this way,” he says, voice going breathy.

“And you like it fast, huh,” Iwai says, tearing open another lube packet and slicking up his fingers.

“What do you thi _ nnngh _ .” Akira cuts off as Iwai shoves two fingers in. He’s been stretched already, just like Goro - and in the future Iwai is going to demand to see that as part of the service - but two fingers is still a lot all at once and Akira’s breath wheezes out of him.

“Thought you liked it fast,” Iwai says, twisting his fingers.

“I -  _ ah! _ ” Akira drops down on his elbows, and Goro’s arms wrap around his waist, holding him close as Akira looks over his shoulder. “Never said I didn’t,” Akira breathes, eyes lit with challenge, and Iwai is going to fuck that right out of him.

“All right then.” Iwai pulls his fingers out and plants a hand on the small of Akira’s back, right over that ridiculous bow, and shoves so that Akira’s knees go out from under him and he’s pressed flat against Goro.

“Respect, Akira,” Goro murmurs, reaching down and spreading Akira’s cheeks, holding him open for Iwai. “Let this be a lesson to you.”

Whatever Akira might have said to that is lost on a groan as Iwai pushes in. Iwai lets himself be a little faster this time, a little rougher, and even bracing himself on the floor Akira still rocks against Goro, trapped underneath him. Akira drops his head into Goro’s neck and Goro reaches up to stroke his hair.

“He’s big, isn’t he?” Goro murmurs into Akira’s ear, slanting a glance at Iwai. “I can still feel his cock in my ass; feels like it’s going to split you open, doesn’t it? Like you can’t take it.”

Iwai rolls his hips, and he’s going to take the noise Akira makes at that as a victory. Goro makes a shushing sound and presses a kiss to Akira’s temple.

“You can, though,” Goro continues, in that even, reasonable tone. “You’re going to take every fucking inch and you’re going to give our Master what he wants, aren’t you, Akira? You’re going to make him come inside you, and you’re lucky he’s generous enough to wear a condom or you’d be even more of a mess than you are now.”

Akira shudders, and Goro grins at Iwai even as he rests his head against Akira’s. “But maybe you’d like that? Maybe you  _ want _ to have his come trickling down your leg when you go home tonight. Something to remember him by, hm?”

Akira moans and Iwai swears, hands flexing on Akira’s hips. “ _ Christ, _ and I thought  _ he _ was the one with the mouth.”

“I have many skills, Master,” Goro all but purrs, and Iwai laughs.

“I’ll bet you do.” Iwai can feel his orgasm catching up to him, tension coiling low in his gut. He shifts Akira’s hips a little higher, and the next thrust tears a rough noise from Akira’s chest.

Iwai grins. “Right there, huh?” He grinds his hips into Akira’s ass and Akira’s fingers scrabble against the carpet, so Iwai pulls back and does it again, and again, until Akira’s entire body goes taut, shaking underneath Iwai’s hands. He makes a harsh noise into Goro’s neck, fingers digging into the carpet and body wringing tight around Iwai’s dick. Iwai only gets a few more thrusts in before the tension building in his gut crests and snaps, forcing a groan from his chest as his own release washes through him.

When he feels like he can breathe right again, he shifts back, taking a moment to admire his softening dick slipping out of Akira’s reddened ass. He unpeels his fingers from Akira’s hips; there will probably be bruises there tomorrow and he strokes the side of Akira’s thigh in apology. Goro murmurs something to Akira before he pushes up, shifting them both upright. Akira clambers somewhat shakily to his feet, giving Goro a hand up as Iwai pulls the condom off and ties the end. He gets to his own feet a little more slowly, tucking himself back away, and heads to the bathroom while Goro and Akira put themselves back together.

Condom disposed of and clothes more or less back in order, Iwai returns to the front of the shop to find Goro adjusting the bow on the small of Akira’s back where Iwai had shoved him down. Akira bears it patiently; his gloss has smeared on one side of his lips, and Iwai closes the few steps between them and lifts a hand to wipe it away.

Akira tilts his head up as Iwai rubs his thumb along his mouth, and Iwai is half tempted to lock the door and throw away the key, to keep them both here far past the point of reason.

“We hope you’ve enjoyed your introductory service, Master,” Goro says over Akira’s shoulder, prim and proper like he hadn’t been gasping on Iwai’s dick not fifteen minutes ago. “Can we hope that you’ll be scheduling a return visit?”

Iwai considers. This had been meant to be a one-time thing, a reward for dealing with a backordered shipment -

Akira bites at Iwai’s thumb, gently, and Iwai feels reason slipping away.

“Shipments come in every Thursday,” he says, drawing his hand back, ignoring the gleam in Akira’s eyes. “ _ Don’t _ be late.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at ThirtySixSaveFiles on Tumblr!


End file.
